Paradoxes and Pamphlets
by RowenaWrites
Summary: Set right after the Final battle, and ignoring the epilogue, Harry and Hermione try to find their way into the future. Letters come in from employers and schools in multiple countries who have heard their stories. Without exactly planning it, they find themselves on a growing adventure of a new kind. One to find themselves and maybe each other. (H/Hr, D/G on the side)
1. Prologue

A/N: This is my first-ever fic, so please don't judge me too harshly by the first few chapters. I think I'm getting better as I go along. Please review if you have any thoughts or you like it. It's great to hear from you fellow readers!

* * *

Harry watched dispassionately as the tent flap fluttered shut. His supposed best friend of 7 years had just deserted him and Hermione during a their hunt for Horcruxes. Harry knew he should feel rage boiling over inside, but he honestly wasn't surprised enough. Ron had proven a fair-weather friend before and had been running away from tough situations for years.

Hermione sunk down onto the tent floor in grief. He could see her eyes squeezed shut and her brown wavy hair move with each sob. She looked so shattered, with her legs twisted uncomfortably on the stair, and her arms and wrist pressed together rocking toward her face.

He shook his head angrily and ran his hand through his hair. They would have to leave, now. If Ron managed to get himself caught by the snatchers, the two left behind would be in danger. They couldn't even afford a small risk when the freedom of the Wizarding world, and otherwise, were in the balance.

He walked quietly over to his rucksack and started packing with wandless magic. That bloody immature git, Harry thought. Not what he had signed up for? Well, this wasn't a field trip with an itinerary and a neatly packaged practical lesson at the end on defeating Voldy. What a joke, Harry thought.

Through practice Harry had progressed to the point where he could pack half of the tent without getting tired. This time he concentrated on not making any noise, which was doubly hard in his anger. He didn't want to disturb Hermione until he was ready to go.

In a few minutes everything was completed short of taking the tent down, he walked around to in front of where she was slumped on the stairs. Harry knelt down to her and felt anguish in his chest when she looked up.

"'Mione, we need to go," he said steadily but softly.

"I know," she said resolutely.

He held out his hand and she took it unsteadily, using rather more support from him than usual.

She followed him out of the tent, arms wrapped around her protecting her from the cold and sorrow. A moment later, Harry held out his hand, and the world flashed in front of her eyes.

* * *

They were on the continent. Somewhere a bit warmer and out of the way. Somewhere they didn't need to take turns doing watches behind wards.

Harry sat in front of the fire, throwing on small pieces of their dinner's packaging and watching sparks spit back at him. He could hear the wind outside the tent, absently noting he had grown to find the once impartially cruel sound relaxing. Hermione finished drying the last dish, something she did by hand because she said it calmed her. When she finished, she came to his side by their smokeless fire.

"I didn't think he'd leave," Hermione said heavily, breaking the silence.

The last thing Harry wanted to talk about was Ron. Annoyance rose up in him, but he knew she needed to talk. It didn't help to have Hermione stressed right now. For the sake of their mission, and her, she had to stop being affected by Ron's actions. He had always wondered how she could be so blind about Ron. They were such opposites and the couple puzzled him from the beginning.

He lifted the Horcrux gently off his neck in preparation to speak with her calmly. He placed the necklace on the table next to him and turned toward her chair, taking her hands in his and careful to hold her gaze.

"Hermione, Ron isn't coming back. He is gone. I know you love him, but even you know that he has been doing this to us for ages. The Tri-wizard Tournament, Lavender, Krum and the Yule Ball, my captainship... This is hardly new behavior from him." Harry carefully hid his resentment.

"But I thought this time, now that it was life or death..."

"I'm not sure Ron is even capable of taking things seriously," Harry said. He noticed Hermione's hand was warm in his newly sweaty ones, and dropped her fingers with an awkward squeeze. His heart lurched a little when he did that. He wanted to grab her soft hands again.

"Yes, but that's how he deals with things."

"He deals by complaining that I don't know what I'm doing? Of course I don't know what I'm doing. That's the bloody point! If I did know what I was doing, he could spend the year with me in a penthouse overlooking the Themes because this war would be over!"

"I know, I'm sorry he's been complaining, and about the food.. I've been trying to tell him to stop it, honestly."

"I know, your voices carried through the tent while I was on my watches."

Fresh tears leaked from Hermione's eyes. Harry closed his momentarily, thinking, wishing he could find a way to make her see that she was blind about Ron. Hermione was strong though, she would be all right soon, and that would have to be good enough. They were far away from any reasonable risk of being found here, and he could pick up the slack for her for a while.

"Every hour we sit here while I loose time over that git, more people are dying," she sobbed. "I need to pull myself together. I can't believe the selfishnes of him!" Her voice sounded stronger and more angry.

Ron didn't belong here. It was true, he had been acting like an entitled kid and Harry was personally glad to be shut of him. But he couldn't say that now.

"Hermione, you are an amazing, beautiful woman, and you deserve much better than the way he treated you." She looked up into his eyes for the first time in minutes, and his heart made a slight pang.

Harry looked back into the fireplace. In a moment, the wireless on the mantle caught his eye and an idea occurred to him. He gestured wandlessly toward the device and a slow-time dance rhythm filled the air with it's happy, nostalgic quality. He stood up, lifting her hand as he rose. She hesitated but rose to meet him, her feet concrete blocks on the floor.

'..Somewhere, beyond the sea, somewhere, waiting for me..' the wireless began in a happy, swinging rhythm.

He swept her into step with him and gradually moved with her to the center of the room.

'.. my lover stands on golden sand, and watches the ships that go sailin'..' the faint echo of distance in the sound faded away, and he was lost with her into the music.

He spun her away softly and then his hand found it's way back to the spot on her back where his hand had already warmed her. Her smile brightened a little when he started swaying them in an exaggerated side-to-side motion. Her eyes were glistening slightly, and the firelight made her hair a deeper and richer shade of brown. Harry tried not to look too much at her face, but he couldn't help himself.

He spun her away and let go of her hand. He took a few steps back and then advance to collect her, swaying his hips more than was strictly prescribed by the dance she watched him.

Hermione's eyes had flicked down to his well-toned chest during that last move, and a fleeting question distracted him: what if Hermione found him attractive?

He paced out fun steps with as much charisma as he could muster, leading her in the steps of their waltz. A moment later he overdid his arm motions to bend her backwards and she burst out laughing. By this time, Harry was beaming.

When the song finally stopped, they dropped back into the seats by the fire.

"Thank you Harry," she said, breathing heavily and leaning her head onto his shoulder.

He closed his eyes, allowing himself to place his head over hers.

He could feel her knees pressing into the side of his leg, and he was still holding her hand. In that moment he realized two things, his feelings for her were very strong, and she was vulnerable.

He caught her eyes and held them for a moment too long, uncomfortable, he said the first thing on his mind, "Hermione, what are you thinking?"

"I– was just remembering when you first told me you had been practicing in empty class rooms. And about the time Ron was on watch right after we escaped the wedding.. You, you're a really great man, Harry. Thank you."

Harry remembered as she spoke. The look of admiration on her face, and her comforting hand on his knee, and her voice reassuring him that they were ready after they had escaped with their lives. Harry noticed her eyes were almost pleading with something that wasn't quite sadness. That look was deliciously unbearable. He tore his gaze away out of obligation.

"You are amazing too, Hermione." And after a moment, "Hermione, what are we doing?" he breathed. He wanted to hold her, to possess her, to ravish her and melt into her all at the same time. His Hermione, his best friend. It became a soft ache in his chest. "We need to protect you, I need you to be strong for me, for everything," he whispered. The moment felt too sacred for louder talking.

"I don't know, but maybe–" she said, breifly honoring the spell of the moment with her voice but lifting her head away from his. After a moment, she sighed and half-smiled. "Of course.. it's comforting to have you near me," she explained. "Human need for connection during times of stress.."

He squeezed the arm that was around his best friend, pulling her shoulder into his chest. Then he stood up his fingers finding his hair already mussed as he walked toward the kitchenette in the corner. He grabbed a drink of water. If this were just him and Hermione on holiday, maybe he wouldn't restrain himself so much, but this was him and Hermione alone to fight a battle for Wizarding-kind. Who knew whether he could manage to come out alive. And they certainly couldn't afford any distractions.

After a moment, Hermione stood up, saying she would take a short watch, just to be sure, and that Harry should get some sleep.

The next morning, Hermione was quickly regaining her stride; Harry found her reading and she sounded stronger. He could see no traces of whatever had happened last night.


	2. War's end

Hermione noticed she had been staring out the window at the puddle forming in her parent's back yard for the better part of five minutes. She heaved a sigh and finally accepted that she wouldn't accomplish much in her father's study. A strong, surreal feeling kept reminding her that this house was no longer her home.

She began packing up her things, slipping her journal and a stack of pamphlets into her sack, pausing for a moment to look at the newest photo of her best friends. Their faces were laughing and locked in an exchange. Hermione smiled at the feel the warm embrace of the wind as it had been two days ago at the photoshoot. She watched the gentle glitter of tourmaline waves on the horizon and the way Harry's hair moved in the breeze.

A low whirring and bell-like chiming sounded to her left-her wards had been activated by a wizard approaching the Granger residence. Hermione's hand stopped mid-hover above picture Harry's forehead and she glanced at the tiny spinning telescope on the desk. She grabbed it just as it fell from the desk and snatched it up to her eyes. Her reflexes had certainly been made faster through the war.

Her heart skipped a beat as Harry's face appeared in her tiny lens. She hadn't been expecting him, why had he come? It wasn't at all like Harry to drop by unannounced. But she supposed he wanted to talk. She knew Harry had been staying at the Burrow with Ron and Ginny and had no idea how either relationship was going. Harry seemed to have made peace with Ron, however, like she had for a while.

The doorbell rang as she was on her way out of the study.

" 'My-oh-nee!" She heard her mother's call filter through the living room. Of course, her mother had opened the door again without consulting the telescope, but she supposed it was a bit of lost cause. She had almost given up on insisting her parents use magical objects even in light of the considerable security they added.

As she stepped into the living room, Harry was finishing his greetings to her mother and turning towards her. She smiled and stopped walking.

His eyes fell on her and she became aware of her heartbeat.

"Hi," he said, a slight grin on his face.

Was it just her, or did his voice seem a little lower, softer, maybe?

"Hello Harry," she returned, still standing half the room away.

He took a few more steps toward her and paused. "I know this is unusual," he started, glancing down. "I've been so restless bouncing between cleaning out Grimmauld Place and the Burrow. Can we go somewhere?"

Hermione nodded, "Ok, I'll just get my bag." It was a mark of their friendship that she didn't even inquire about his plans. He looked like he had a lot on his mind.

She glanced at him on the way back down the stairs and Harry stood. He made it to the door a stride ahead of her and reached his arm out to open the way for them.

From outside, a light rain fell into her clothing and splattered tiny spots on her arm as she watched him on the stoop. He whispered a covert locking charm and he descended toward her, watching his step on the unfamiliar concrete risers.

It was equally foreign and natural to see him in front of her childhood home. From the distance, her eyes momentarily caught on the places his t-shirt clung to his chest.

"Want to go?" he asked simply when he was standing just beyond the small manicured hedge that marked the boundary of her wards.

"Sure," She grabbed his arm and he apparated away. His green eyes locked into her brown ones while the world spun around them.

The spinning slowed and she glanced around. They were behind a magnolia bush in some sort of muggle public grounds.

Harry lowered his arm and she pulled away shifting slightly from him they stepped out from their secluded place. It was not raining here and a small child almost ran into her as she followed Harry forward. She saw some of the tallest trees she had seen in a while, and a neat stone castle that would be dwarfed by Hogwarts but commanded the attention of it's elegant and peaceful grounds.

He had been leading them to a bench that overlooked the Peacock gardens and the field leading up to the castle. She sat down next to him, the sun's filtered rays lighting specks of her skin.

"Where are we, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"This? I don't remember the name. Some muggle Castle near London. The Dursleys took me here a few times."

"It's beautiful," she said mildly, the breeze flicking her hair around lightly.

She noticed his eyes trained on her and glanced across at him. He looked away.

"It's been a strange couple of days, being back from everything" he said.

"It has been." she said solemnly.

"Nothing feels like it's going back to normal. It's all too quiet and still. You know, I almost wish we could still be fighting Voldemort."

She laughed. After a moment, she said "I guess we got used to a different normal."

"Yeah, for seven years," he agreed. "But Ron is completely at peace now, it's like nothing ever happened with him."

His afterthought got her thinking. A few had shared in the discomfort for the new normal, Ginny, Mrs. Weasley, even Oliver Wood had mentioned the feeling at a victory celebration. But now they all seemed to be grounded in the now. Ron especially was content to idle away his summer and work with Fred in the shop. Even their mourning seemed to drive them into the future. But she couldn't seem wrap her head around the future.

"You know, sometimes I just get lost in it all and I have this strange feeling that my life is starting over but-"

"But you don't know where to start," he finished.

"Exactly." And then after a moment she pondered, "So many things have ended. The structure of school is gone. We are no longer beholden to our parents, we are adults, we can do magic legally, and the mission we weren't sure we'd survive, is accomplished. We could write our own tickets anywhere, Harry, do you know that?"

"Mmhm," he assented passively, still gazing ahead.

"I can't stand him sometimes, Hermione," he said suddenly. "After everything we've been through, with him coming back.. I thought I was over him leaving us, but I think it just opened my eyes to who he really is. And I noticed, you aren't talking to him, as well.."

"I.." Hermione sighed, watching a bird flutter by. "I am questioning a lot right now, Harry. He didn't just leave the war, he walked out on me when I needed him. I'd be a fool to think it wouldn't happen in the future. If we had a life together.. And maybe it was just young, foolish love."

After a few moments he stood up, turning toward the gardens a little restlessly. Her heart fluttered a bit at his well-proportioned body, distracting her. She wondered again whether it was a good idea to entertain these feelings or if she should squash them immediately.

"Like to take a walk?" He offered.

"Sure." She stood next to him, the perimeter of the grounds rustled brightly as leaves fluttered in the sunlight in every direction.

They walked past a few young teens arguing over how to fly a kite. The knotted string had become a point of contention with a younger sibling. Soon, their shrill voices were covered by the soft sound of trickling water. And the mixture of fountains and manicured shrubbery along with exotic flowers that were the peacock gardens surrounded them. A little ways down the avenue, she paused a moment to take in a particularly beautiful and large white flower.

He cleared his throat. "Miranda convinced me to visit the Magical Military Division in America next week. And, I also took Rodolphus up on his offer to visit the Institute of Magical and Technological Research."

"Oh," she said, walking alongside him again. "That is excellent. Is Rodolphus the one located in the Netherlands?"

"Yeah. America and the Netherlands. Then the Blood Secret activists want me to speak in Ireland at a rally, and there was something about a professor in Germany who wants an audience with us to propose some research... The letters keep coming in."

Hermione was quiet. She was slightly jealous of all of these requests. She felt suddenly alone in her directionless mood but then remembered Harry's words of understanding.

"Do you really know what you want to do next?" she asked tentatively.

"No, it all seems like a good distraction, but I'm not sure what else to be doing."

They rounded an aisle toward a tall fountain.

"Will you come with me?" he asked. He actually stopped walking this time, he was anxious for an answer.

"To America?" she asked.

"Yeah, next week, to America."

She frowned thoughtfully for a moment.

"It's been strange not seeing you every day," he said toward the flower. "We have spent virtually every day and mostly every moment together for such a long time now," he said.

She felt his words wash over her and was unsure what to say.

"I noticed that as well," she agreed, she turned toward him. He was much nearer now, his body almost warmed her air.

Harry interrupted her thoughts by saying exactly what she had been thinking. "I know we've been traveling a lot, and I just want to find rest and peace, too, more than anything. But I can't find it here, it isn't working. I think the only way I'll be able to find what is next for me is to see what opportunities are out there. And, I'd like you to come with me."

"Ok," she said after a moment. "I'll go with you to the appointment in America next week."

"Thank you," he said quietly. "Now what about some dinner?"

"Can we just stop off at my mum and dads? I'll let them know not to expect me for a while."

Harry's hand as he reached to pour her more water from the pitcher on the restaurant table.

Harry's smile as she amused him with a silly joke about Scrimgeour.

Harry's light sweater as it clung to his arms and chest.

His green eyes. His wide smile.

It was all so familiar. He was so familiar.

They had eaten together plenty of times before. But this time, facing off behind identical menus and a small table candle, and beneath a trellis of vines in one of London's new restaurants, it was sinking in: she wanted more. It wasn't Ron's clumsy and clueless life that she wanted to be a part of. In fact, all of Ron's loyalty and charm that she had found so comforting while she had faced down her own insecurities paled in comparison to the notion that a real man sat across from her. Harry, her best friend, her complete, amazing, friend.

And she felt vulnerable.

She laughed nervously at something he said. Perhaps, she told herself, she merely had this notion because it seemed like everyone else in this restaurants was part of a couple. Of course, she thought as she was falling asleep later, that trying to write off her feelings was only wishful thinking.


	3. Who is we?

"We are going to America for a few days next week," Hermione announced casually, drawing her legs up under her on the Weasley couch.

"What? Who is we?" Ron asked. He sounded a bit affronted as he spoke through a mouthful of his mum's cookies.

Ginny looked up, too, from the chair by the window where she had been reading a private letter.

"Oh, it's.. Harry and I," she stated, wondering if she should have waited for him to show up at the Burrow before making the announcement.

"What, you two?"

"Ron, hasn't Harry been telling you about the requests he is getting?"

"Yeah, I just thought he wouldn't bother to go."

Hermione sighed a little and looked out the window. Of course he didn't think Harry would go, he certainly wouldn't have himself.

"But why are you going Hermione?" he asked a little sadly, leaning forward a little and looking at her.

"Because," she searched, "because there isn't much to do here and a few of the letters requested to see me."

"Wait, more letters? And why haven't they asked to see me?" Ron said, annoyance seeping into his voice.

"A few have requested you, hasn't Harry been telling you? Honestly, what do you two do here all day?"

"Well, we uh, mostly play quidditch and chess," he whined. "But this is weird Hermione, you running off to America with him."

"I am not running off, Ron, and I hardly think it's right of you to call anything I do weird. Ever since you left, you lost any say in what I do."

"Why are you making this about us? I wasn't making this about us."

She closed her eyes and breathed in a long breath. He had clearly been possessive just now, which she chose not to point out.

Ron was sullen, slumped on the couch, his chin nearly on his chest and his eyes anywhere but her. He clearly still had feelings for her, and she was shocked he couldn't detect her annoyance. They hadn't properly gotten back together after the war, despite his assumptions to the contrary. Even when she had clarified that she was done with him, he persisted in asking her for a while. How could he not think it was over after he failed to own up to the gravity of what he did? She may have had a moment of weakness in the emotions of the final victory, but that was over.

Ginny shifted uncomfortably at the tension in the room and went back to her letter.

They distantly heard Mrs. Weasley open the kitchen door.

Harry's voice filled the hall as he complimented the smells that were spilling from the kitchen and slowly filling the Burrow.

"How much longer until we eat?"

"Oh, just a little while longer, dear. I don't know where Arthur got off to and we are waiting for Bill."

"Smells amazing" he said, passing through into the living room.

He sat down on the couch next to Hermione.

"Hello Harry," she said, smiling a little to herself as he looked away.

"What is this?" Ron asked suddenly half sitting up.

"Wha-" Harry started.

"You getting all cozy with Hermione now?"

"What?" Harry asked. He looked around at Hermione for help, not knowing where the assault was coming from.

She winced a little and glanced up at the fireplace mantle. A few months ago this behavior would have caused her pain. Now, though, she felt only exasperation.

"Ron, what is going on?" Harry asked.

"Ask your girlfriend." He stated. He stood up abruptly and walked into the kitchen. They could hear the sounds of him talking to Mrs. Weasley, a bit of a whine in his voice. Then came the sound of the back door opening. As it slammed shut, Ginny moved into the seat Ron had been occupying.

"I'm sorry for him," she said. "He's been in a weird state all day. Ever since he got back from this date yesterday, actually. It was a girl from my year, and I'm not sure how he met her, exactly. He was happy after coming home, but then he's been, well, like this."

"If it was Harnica," Harry said, " he met her at the Quibbler's victory party. Luna managed to introduce the two somehow and I guess Ron always liked the look of her. I am a little surprised he's," Harry hesitated glancing at Hermione, "moving on so quickly."

"Well he's doing a moody awful job of moving on, if you can call it that. And, yeah, that's her all right." Ginny said.

Hermione decided to stay quiet on this one. Ever since Harry and Ginny had been reunited after the final battle, they had been living like brother and sister and behaving as old friends. Although, she had seen them kiss that first day and assumed they would finally become a proper couple, it just didn't seem to be happening. It was the reason, though, that Hermione had continued in resolutely shoving down the feelings for Harry that had been building through their journey.

"Say, Ginny," Harry changed the subject, "what did Malfoy want that night? I noticed he was bothering you. I'm surprised he even dared show his face at the party."

"Oh," Ginny said, starting a little. She folded her arms across her chest and over her letter. "He was just – asking about the fondu." She said lamely. "Mentioned, he was there at the Minister's request."

"The fondu? What a slimy git, coming out with that prophet article, I doubt Skeeter had to even embellish a word. He has changed? What a joke."

Hermione could swear Ginny winced a little when Harry said this.

"Dinner!" The sound of Molly Weasley's voice rang out through the house. And the three stood up.

Hermione glanced out the front window warily as she passed by, looking for signs of Ron. He wasn't anywhere to be found. If she was lucky, he'd be out chatting up women at Ale Wives, the Quidditch bar in Diagon Alley. In fact, by the time the evening concluded with no sign of Ron, she was almost ready to bet her wand on it.


	4. State-side

She stood in the lobby of the ministry, trying to keep out of the way and peer through the crowd to find Harry.

A large witch clipped her with a trolley cart as she blew passed. Hermione spun around and watched cart pass, the jars rattled as what looked like brains sloshed inside behind evidence labels.

"Hermione! Over here." Harry's voice called out from behind.

"There you are Harry," she said, turning to find him at her side. His backpack was slung over one shoulder and he was casually gripping the shoulder strap. It looked nearly empty and she had no doubt he had charmed his luggage as well. She wasn't sure why, but that little act made him seem more grown up. Of course, her own luggage was charmed and resting weightlessly in her purse.

They made their way into a crowded elevator, the whole ride to the department, she was aware of him standing just behind her. They were all set to travel, and headed toward the portkey departure lounge.

Harry had come to the Ministry a few days back to make travel arrangements, and apparently it was commonplace to also depart from the department. A team of specialized charmers were on-site, ready to create departure and return portkeys.

"Alright Harry Potter" said the witch at the counter as they approached the departures office. Her bit of Yorkshire and chipper smile was instantly endearing. She looked down to pick a paper out of her tray.

"Yeah, it's me and Hermione Granger," he said, placing his arm on the counter. "Are we all set to go?"

"Indeed" she stated, "You will depart at 4, but we don't make return portkeys for America, so you'll need to visit the Department of Magical Transport in the Federal Hall of Magic. You'll find the office easily enough from within Boston's magical quarter." The witch stamped a few papers with gusto. "Come this way, please," she motioned for them to walk around the counter. Hermione followed, folding her sweater over her arm uncomfortably. She rather wasn't looking forward to travel by Portkey, she never could get accustomed to the feeling.

"4pm to Boston." She called out as they entered a back room. She plopped a small muggle garden gnome statuette down in front of a slightly round older wizard sitting at a desk. He didn't look up as they approached, his eyes sluggishly fixated down at the statuette and the paper the witch had deposited. He had a mustache that covered most of his mouth and a small top hat that sat too low, covering most of his eyes. All of a sudden, in a flourish of concentrated energy he slashed his wand about over the gnome. It glowed a pale aqua for a moment and the giant clock that was fixed to the desk beside the gnome started ticking the seconds loudly.

"Hurry along kids," he gestured them quickly forward, looking up for the first time since they entered the room. "Just a moment to go," he said in a jolly voice.

Harry and Hermione placed their hands on the statue and stared down at the large clock fixed to the desk. The moment the second hand struck the hour, Hermione felt the dreaded pulling sensation and they were off.

They went spinning up as the ministry opened like a jack-in-the-box then folded and away below. The swirling colors of ocean filled her vision and she held on tighter. In just a few moments they had spanned an ocean and were hurled into.. the center of a giant child's ball pen!

Harry looked down for a moment, picking up a red ball and laughed. He threw it playfully at Hermione. They picked themselves up heavily and stepped down into what must be an arrivals hall of some sort. Four other arrival stations were situated along walls. There was a giant mattress, a foam pit Hermione recognized from her failed gymnastics days, even a magical pile of snow.

"Harry, Hermione!" A happy voice called out nearby.

Harry looked around to see a tall, bald man, bouncing with energy approaching them.

"Stan?"

"Your man! Welcome to Boston!" He said, throwing his arms out and coming in for a hug.

"Er, thanks!" Harry said brightly. When he stepped back slightly, Stan was already swooping in on Hermione.

"Awesome! Welcome to you too, Hermione!"

"Thanks," she managed to say hurriedly before Stan continued talking.

"Look, I didn't mean to ambush you at the arrivals hall, I just wanted to make myself available to you guys and give you a huge welcome state-side. We are all set for tomorrow morning. I got you some sweet digs up on Highland Park. I think you'll love it. Very great hotel, we work with the owner off and on in the R&amp;D lab, he keeps coming back for more. Oh, and here is a list of places to try if you've never been to Boston. Don't forget to check out Muggle Boston too, the Muggles of this city really know how to live."

"Wow, all right." Harry said, impressed. Stan spoke quickly and his energy was infectious, but an intense breed of infectious.

"Stan, thank you," Hermione intoned, looking down at the list. "We've never been to Boston before. This is excellent."

They were strolling out the departure lounge when Stan pointed enthusiastically at a plaque near the exit. "We won an award for this arrivals hall recently. We used to have people landing in the park until a toddler got kicked in the face. After that, the community came up with this. Morning Mike!" He raised his hand at a passing man who shot a greeting back.

The arrivals hall opened into a beautiful atrium with giant windows overlooking a square. The park was brimming with children, young couples and the elderly. Shops and restaurants lined the perimeter. Stan led the way and stopped a little out of the way of the main thoroughfares and handed over a map.

"Here's us," he said pointing down at the map, towering a little over Harry, "and this is your hotel, almost on the water! Our labs are a few blocks away toward the city center. All the better, because why should we obstruct the gorgeous ocean views with our building? Are you guys hungry?"

Harry and Hermione looked at each other.

"Not much," Harry said.

"Nah, it's a weird hour. Let's grab brunch tomorrow. In fact, I'll meet you at your hotel, say 10 AM?"

"Sure, that sounds great." Harry said, feeling a bit like a broken record but grinning all the same. "It's great to meet you Stan, I'm truly looking forward to tomorrow."

"Likewise! See you later Harry, Hermione!" He gestured back at them with his raised arm as he started walking away, his tall, bald form swaggering slightly into the crowd.

Hermione turned to Harry, "well he's a handful!" she said.

"He has so much energy! It's great, but I hope all American wizards aren't like that," he said. "I wouldn't know what to do with myself."

The buildings surrounding the park wouldn't have looked out of place in Diagon Alley and the kids in the park were playing with toy broomsticks. This was Boston's magical quarter.

They were still standing out of the way, glancing down at the map. "Shall we go?" he offered.

"Yes." She said slightly wonderingly. "Harry, it looks like England here."

"Yeah, never thought I'd see another like Diagon Alley."

She became aware as they walked how at ease she was. The new sights and sounds, the new shop names, it was all so familiar but so new. And it was all the better to be experiencing this with Harry.

Their hotel made Inns in England seem like a seventeenth century cottage. The witch at the front desk had proudly boasted the technology of the Inn was far superior to others in the States. But it was also more beautiful than even the nicer ones in Diagon Alley. Hermione's mind was starting to open up to the possibility that a cultural revolution may be afoot. Wizarding had out shined Muggle technology for so long that innovation had hardly been necessary. But the muggles had been catching up, and surpassing in areas. Of course magic was still far superior in most ways, but for how long, who knew?

"Do you think we have become complacent with our magic?" she asked, surveying the cover of a wizarding entertainment magazine sitting on the room's desk.

"What?" Harry asked, filling a bedside glass with water from his wand.

She adjusted her purse on her shoulder and sat down on his bed for a moment. She had just come in to check out his room with him. She didn't feel right to put down her bag in his space, a small rune that was her key. The witch had told her that using runes as security was inspired by muggle technology. Removing the need to place new wards on rooms between each guest.

"I mean, as a society. They are so forward-thinking here, in the states compared to England."

"Yeah, I had noticed that. I mean, the whole department we are visiting tomorrow wouldn't exist in England. Well, it does, but that's the Department of Mysteries. And it's been a century since they revealed anything new to the public. A lot of what Marinda explained to me about the Magical Military Division was along those lines." He took a drink of his water glass as he offered another to Hermione.

"It's why I agreed to come, actually. These people are wizards but it is a whole different world here. It's not the past we've been used to with carriages and fireplaces."

"Thank you," Hermione said. "Thanks for inviting me and convincing me to go. It would have been worth it just to come stay in this hotel. I'm sure tomorrow will be amazing."

Harry smiled, plopping down on a chair station near the bed. The harbor view that opened up from Harry's picture window captured their gazes for a while. White sails dotted the water and they could hear the low thrum of the city.

"Well, Boston," Hermione said after a while, "let's see what you have to offer!"

The two laughed easily as the imagined themselves doing various items of the list. In the end they chose an upscale restaurant in downtown muggle Boston which happened to be Stan's utmost recommendation as conveyed by enthusiastic circles. Some gelato, walking on the pier, exploring the heart of the city, and touring a joke shop in the magical quarter later, they were exhausted. Harry had bought a bag full of items to take back to Ron and George to rip off.

Their whole night went by with no newspaper reporters or admiring fans. In fact, no one besides Hermione even knew Harry's name. Harry decided he liked that very much. And for the first time in a long time, they completely forgot about Voldemort.


	5. A glimpse

Hermione sat in front of the vanity mirror brushing her hair slowly. She dug her toes through the plush carpet, but she stared out at the glorious harbor view, avoiding her own eyes. And avoiding thinking about the pang of disappointment last night when she and Harry parted without... well, she didn't know what exactly.

She wasn't sure what she wanted to happen, so she was sure he was a few steps behind her. Come to that, she wasn't sure what was going on between him and Ginny.

She glanced over her shoulder in the mirror at the clock beside the bed and started to hurry up.

A minute later she was in the hall, and just as she raised her hand to knock on Harry's hotel room door, it opened.

"Hey, 'morning," he said, pulling the door closed behind him. He stepped out into the hall, hitching his backpack onto his shoulder "How'd you sleep?"

"And then I told him, 'dude, your hat is on fire!' " Stan said drawing out raucous laughter from Harry, Hermione, and their other tour guide Carmichael.

"I didn't know you used to work for the Ministry, Stan," Harry said when the jesting comments died off.

"Yeah, I suppose most of us used to, before the innovation really started taking hold around here. It has been a wild ride, these past few years. But I've learned a ton. So, this is our main research lab," he said, opening a set of tall doors.

Harry stepped through the door and stopped in his tracks, forgetting to walk for a minute. It was incredible to have several simultaneous otherworldly sights. A man was falling from a height and reappearing moments later back where he started. He had on protective eyewear and cycled above a crash pad. It looked like he was gaining momentum, too. Then he'd stop for a moment and call something to an onlooker. A beautiful and entrancing substance exuding light and undulating was taking up another segregated zone. Several wizards circled taking measurements by their wands.

Carmichael was talking to Hermione a few paces away, and Harry rather wished he'd shut it, go away, and preferably both. He was High Circle educated, and he was just a little too sure of himself for Harry's tastes. Hermione was paying rapt attention, however, hanging on Carmichael's words about his days at Greensmith.

He quickly smiled as Stan turned toward him, formulating questions about the various experiments and how they all came about before arriving in the testing lab.

The group meandered through the center, pausing to chat with the experimenters. Harry turned down a chance to go on the free-fall accelerator, and they were almost out of the room when he heard someone yell.

"Watch out!"

"Code Yellow! I'm calling it!" someone on the floor called back.

Harry turned around just in time to see the beautiful gurgling substance exploding. He grabbed Stan and Hermione, pulled them toward Carmichael and cast a quick wandless spell encapsulating the four of them in a sort of bubble.

A moment later the material splashed over them like water, and Stan looked over at Harry inside the bubble. "Woah Harry, that was some awesome magic! I didn't know I was going to get a show while taking you on a tour! Maybe I should put your life at risk more." He laughed over the sound of liquid gushing overhead.

Harry saw that Hermione had tripped when he had pulled everyone together, and he stepped toward her to help her up, but Carmichael got their first.

"Just so you know, any material out here on the floor with us can't harm us, that particular one was just water. We contain all of our dangerous materials behind safety shields," he said, popping Harry's spell. The slight echoing stopped. "We could certainly use a fast guy like you!" he said clapping Harry on the back.

The sound of clapping filled the room and Harry looked up, a little sheepishly.

Harry laughed it off and said louder, "reflex from the war." People smiled indulgently at him still looking impressed.

He looked back at Hermione. Carmichael had reengaged her en conversation, but her eyes were on Harry now and she was smiling. She hadn't seen him do magic on that scale since the last battle, and then it had been only priory incatatem. This almost looked like one of Dumbledore's fantastical spells.

A small man from the water experiment approached the small tour. "That was some amazing magic, there. Who might you be?"

"Hi, it's great to be in your labs, I'm Harry."

Stan laughed. "We're trying to recruit Mr. Harry Potter here, Dan, now he's never going to work for us."

"You should take him to the military floor and give him a real scare!" Dan said.

"You lot are going to wear me out," Harry said genially.

The rest of the water experimentation group took turns explaining their research into various properties of water, it's molecular organization, it's complexities and the effects of nano patterns on magic. It was a bit over his head, but then again, he was a little distracted. Hermione stood a bit closer to him this time, and he suddenly couldn't stop puzzling over Ginny and where she thought they stood. What if he didn't care?

He ran a hand through his hair, looking down at his clothing options. Stan, Carmichael, Ryan, and Morgan, along with a few others they had met that day were meeting up for a late dinner and night out. The wizards here hardly stayed in Wizarding Boston. Instead, as a rule, they ventured out into muggle territory. He didn't mind that. In fact, he liked how normal the muggle way of life was for this lot, it matched him very well. He thought it suited Hermione too. She seemed happy here with this lot.

He pulled on some trousers and a nice shirt, and started fixing his hair up a bit. A large tawny owl nudged the window open and deposited a letter nearly on his head before flying out.

Curiously he bent down and retrieved the letter that had fallen on the bed. His heart fell a bit as he recognized the handwriting, it was from Ginny. All of his problems seem to come back the moment he thought of her, and he sighed, dropping himself down on to the bed.

Hermione knocked slightly and walked into his room. He quickly crumpled the letter into his hands, not wanting to remind her of his drama with Ginny right now.

"You look nice," he said, admiring her a bit.

"Thank you. Harry, are you all right?" she asked, apparently noticing how his smile didn't fill his face.

"Yeah, it's just... I saw something from home and it got me remembering things."

"Oh.. You know, I was really proud of you today. I was thinking.. it's possible your strength was magnified in some way after the last battle with Voldemort, Harry."

"Yeah, I've been wondering that. Thanks Hermione," Harry said, smiling a genuine soft smile this time.

"How did you learn that particular one?" she asked, moving toward his window and absently arranging his belongings like she used to in the tent. "We never covered it in classes, I didn't run into it until we were preparing to travel last year, and I don't really know it."

"I started doing some research after the lake challenge and seeing Fleur's bubble head charm in Tri-Wizard tournament. It was terrifying how unprepared I felt then, I think thats what started it.. Then in fifth year I went through a phase where I was pretty scared about prospects of fighting Voldemort and started trying to learn any and every spell I thought would prepared me. There was something about leading the DA that caused the possibility of preparing like that to occur to me. I guess it didn't really stick, but I did learn that spell."

"I wish I would have known that back then..." Hermione said.

He suddenly felt a surge of emotion toward Hermione. He wondered at it as she went on. "Though I'd probably have drawn us up a study schedule for the next five years.. "

"It's ok, I didn't want you to know I was scared.." he said. She smiled an odd kind of wondering smile back at him, and Harry felt the hard edges of the letter dig into his palm. He shifted his hand, pushing the letter under the blanket.

After a moment, he said awkwardly and a bit hurriedly "it's, uh, it's about time to go."

They stood up and collected some last-minute effects and strode out to join the group at a restaurant.

Harry watched Hermione as her face lit up telling one of his stories.

"..And then Harry comes hurtling through the sky, in a full vertical dive catching up with the other seeker. The other bloke has enough sense to pull up from the dive, but not Harry," Hermione goes on, drawing smiles and small laughs. "No, and mind you, he's barely flown before! He manages to pull our of the dive inches from the ground and actually stands, yes stands up, on his still-hurtling broom!" Stan reached to his side and punches Harry lightly in the arm. "Then we all saw him topple over and get up like he was going to be sick. Then he coughs the snitch up out of his mouth!" The table roars with laughter.

Harry felt pride swell up in him when he looked over to see Hermione smiling at him.

Midway down the table, an attractive blonde witch catcalled Harry's athletic ability. He glanced at her and grinned to be polite, slightly worried Hermione may think he was interested in her.

The hotpot on their table bubbled merrily as people dropped various items in to cook as conversations struck up around the long table. Harry was having a fun time with chopsticks, this being his first exposure. And the sushi was another thing altogether, he'd never eaten raw fish before either. It was certainly an interesting night.

"There's a band playing a few streets down, or there is an improv night back in the Quarter." Morgan said to him.

While in Muggle Boston, they had all sorts of words in their vernacular to cover up their wizard speak. When they really wanted to let loose, they'd drop a couple spells round the table and it was an instant muggle obfuscator, though they seemed to rarely bother. It was second nature for them to switch words.

"Yeah, I don't know how to decide," Harry said back.

"Ah, let's do a boat party in the Harbor!" another young guy insisted from the other side of Harry. "Mike's got the family boat back from Nantucket."

There was a chorus of happy agreement.

A few hours on, Harry was talking to Carmichael along the side of the boat deck. He could see why Hermione found him so fascinating. He actually was a very interesting and positive bloke. He was genuinely interested in hearing tales of Harry's adventures and, though Carmichalel couldn't match Harry's, he told some interesting expedition stories of his uncle's or grandfather's. Their sense of adventure had apparently landed Carmichael in the research field.

But Harry was even more surprised to find out out that Carmichael had also grown up an orphan, though raised by his grandparents.

Every fifteen minutes or so, however, Harry got a nagging feeling of obligation and distraction from Ginny's letter. His growing guilt felt stronger every time he eyed Hermione. Pretty soon he was near distraction.

"So what about you and Hermione?" Carmichael asked conspiratorially.

Harry was taken aback. It's not that he wouldn't expect the guy to be so forward, it was that he didn't know what to say. He had no claim to her and he didn't want to deal with this subject in addition to his thoughts.

"I mean," Harry said haltingly "she's the best friend I've ever had." He wanted to say more, so this guy would back off, but what right did he have? What if she fancied him?

"Oh, I thought you two maybe had something going on, my bad," he said back, predictably.

"We might," Harry said, not sure this was the right move. "We just got back from a very taxing war and all. We both have been through a lot recently." He thought this would deter the older boy a bit, but he wasn't sure.

"Yeah, I understand," he said, looking over at Hermione, the breeze teasing her light jacket into clinging to her thin body in all the right ways. She looked so beautiful in the evening lights and Harry wondered if the older bloke would make a pass at her anyway.

At that moment, Harry saw Hermione cover a big yawn with her hand and, hoping he wasn't being too transparent said he thought they would head out.

He approached Hermione, and she agreed readily. They said their goodbyes, and regrets about being jet-lagged. It truly had been a great night with these people. The night sky, the calm on the water, the city lights, all were truly out of another world for them.

Harry gently took Hermione's arm and apparated away to the square near the hotel. He felt temptation at the skin contact. He closed his eyes a little.

"That was some night," she intoned quietly, sounding exhausted.

"Yeah, those people are great. I see why you thought I'd get on with Carmichael."

She smiled tiredly and thumbed the 4th floor button on the lift. "I can't believe our time here is almost up, we leave tomorrow."

"Yeah, then back to the Burrow, I suppose."

"We don't have to go back, do we? Not yet. We have so many other requests," she said.

"I want to go on, but I think we should go back for a bit," he said, thinking about Ginny.

Hermione yawned harder and bigger "Oh,.. Ok, then. Goodnight Harry." And she did something she hadn't done in a while, she came closer for a hug. It was exactly what he wanted and exactly what he couldn't stand. His distraction got the best of him and he pulled away a moment later, disappearing into his room with a last "goodnight."

The letter was still tucked in the folds of the blankets. He flung it open and read as quickly as he could to get it over with.

His eyes scanned quickly. Ginny had some news. She had won a place on the Junior Harpies team. She'd surely get picked up as rookie for next year. He felt a surge of pride, as if it were coming from some other person residing in his head. Quidditch and love of the game seemed almost foreign to him now and it cost him a pang to realize that.

Ginny had said she wanted clarity from him on if they were together or not. She said she didn't want to press him, but the pressure Harry felt at that moment was a bit unbearable. Why did he want to walk away from this girl he once loved? Could he trust these new feelings and desires, or was his old self a casualty of the war?

As he was drifting to sleep, he mused over Hermione's proud and admiring expression as she recounted his Quidditch tale.


	6. Pause, unpause

A/N: Thanks to those who have reviewed so far! This is my first-ever fic, so also thanks to the readers who have stuck with me to this point. It's so cool to have readers :) I hope I'm getting better as I go along, and feedback is always good, so please review if you have any thoughts or you like it. Hope you enjoy.

(Also, I'm a fan of stories that aren't afraid to move the plot along, so I'm going to try to do that while not pushing our favorite characters OOC!)

* * *

Of course they'd move in together: Ron, him, Hermione. That had always been the plan. At least, it had always been the unspoken plan. Grimmauld Place was hardly a place for a bachelor, girlfriend or no.

But now, standing outside the old Black house, his loyalties divided between it and the Burrow, he felt his present conflict sharpen. He still spent time there, despite, the hint of awkwardness that he was shoving down. Because, they were, in a way, his family. And Ginny, she was supposed to have been his future and his formal ticket to all of their hearts. He felt it even more now, what with Ron being so at odds with him lately.

The front door banged shut behind him and the cold lighting of the place washed over him. Silence. Yes, the painful silence was back. Ginny's letter was sharp between his fingers. He couldn't stay here.

* * *

"Last we really talked was when he took me out to walk around Diagon Alley. I guess we were getting ice cream, but he's been so distant."

"There's something going on with him and Hermione," Ron said moodily, making a ghastly expression toward the chess board. It was the sort of relationship you had with your sister, not needing to make eye contact when talking about personal subjects.

"I don't know Ron, I don't think Hermione would do that. We've been friends forever, and her and Harry never had a thing."

"You didn't see them during the war.." he said darkly.

"Yeah, but that was just your Horcrux talking."

"Even lies have some element of truth. I'm telling you, I've known them for years, there is something up with them."

"I don't know, but I'm not about to wait around to find out."

One of Ron's rook's fell sideways after a particularly vicious move from Ginny, who, though, still wasn't winning.

"Say, Gin, if you're not seeing Harry come this fall, those blokes at Hogwarts are gonna have me to deal with!"

"Ronald! You are not spoiling my final year by spying on me. Or maybe I'll give you more than you want to see!"

Harry stood outside the living room, leaning against the wall in the kitchen, out of sight of Ginny and Ron. He had slipped in a moment ago, in time to hear Ginny talking about a fall without him. It cost him a small pang and a moment of doubt to hear that she seemed not to be too broken up about losing him.

* * *

A small bell tinkled around a muted room of the magical real estate office in Diagon Alley. Harry paced about looking at various poster displays while waiting for someone to appear at the counter.

"Wotcher Harry!" the jolly voice of Ernie McMillan greeted him as he thumbed a tiny display leaflet.

"Hiya Ernie," he said, walking up to shake the bloke's hand.

"What brings you in here?" the Irishman asked.

"Now Ernie, please be kind to our guest Mr. Potter," a fatherly voice said as a man in a suit stepped out from the back.

"Oh, Ernie is fine, Mr...?" Harry said, extending a hand.

"Mr. Forringham" the man supplied while enclosing Harry's hand and shaking it rather more vigorously than one would do for an average real estate customer. "Pleased very kindly to have you here, Mr. Potter. What may we do for you?"

Ernie stepped back, looking partially annoyed and partially flabbergasted. Harry was slightly embarrassed but more used to the treatment now after more than 7 years of acclimation.

"I have some questions about selling a property."

* * *

"Ginny, thanks for taking a walk with me," Harry said, a bit awkwardly.

She nodded her assent but remained quiet.

"I'm sorry I didn't write. America was amazing. Boston, I mean. They are just so.." His excitement trailed off as he looked at her bored expression. "Never mind. I'm really happy for you about the Harpies. I think it's amazing you get to train with them this year, I couldn't be more proud of you."

"Look, that's really nice Harry, but cut to the point. What is going on with us. You haven't tried to kiss me in weeks. You have barely been around."

"I know, it's been unfair to you. I'm sorry–"

"Then you disappear to another continent with Hermione."

"Look, we just–" Harry started, defending himself.

"No, you look, I'm tired of this. You obviously decided no. After our talk you said we'd try to get to know each other again, but this isn't trying."

"You're right. I haven't been trying. Things have been kind of rough for me and –"

"Kind of rough? This should be the happiest time of your life! This is what we'd talked about for over a year. What we couldn't wait to happen!"

"Look, Gin, it is hard for me. I'm sorry you can't understand. I just wanted to come and tell you face to face that I can't do this right now, maybe I've just changed too much. And I'm really sorry but I don't think we are going to work anymore."

"Right, that's obvious," she half snorted. Harry looked into her attractive face and found he just didn't see her the same way anymore. She wasn't his fiery redhead to him, she was just Ginny, and moreover, she seemed like his kid-sister, like a near-stranger, and in this moment, a little like an enemy. She was still talking. "Well, now that that's settled, I'm going back inside." Ginny didn't look hurt, she just looked angry.

Harry allowed himself a moment of guilt and sadness as she walked back to the house. It had been a good distraction while it had lasted. And Ginny was fun, but the truth was that he couldn't talk to her. Sure she would always have the Chamber of Secrets, the DA, and the war to claim a part of, but to her, everything was settled. The war was over, life was back to normal, and that was that. And it drove him mad.

He had died! He had never assumed he would have any life beyond the final battle. He had stared down his mortality and won. And now he had this wonderful gift that was a future and he wasn't going to let his life pass him by.

* * *

She looked up from her book and over her slippered feet to rest her concerned eyes on Harry.

He had shown up at her house again, just wanting to spend time. So there they were, in her parent's sitting room, windows closed from an unusually chilly June rain and occupying a couch and an arm chair.

Harry hadn't noticed her gaze yet. He seemed to be stuck at the close of one in a pile of letters, his gaze having seemingly paused with his thoughts moments ago. He wore a troubled look, and Hermione felt emotion well up inside her. She hated to see Harry like this.

She stood soundlessly, her pajamas muting her movements further, and made her way to where he was sitting sideways in the center of the couch. She placed herself behind his back and set a comforting hand on his shoulder. When he turned slightly to look at her, he had an apologetic look in his eyes. He closed his letter slowly and then turned to sit properly next to her.

"What is really going on, Harry?"

Harry sighed audibly and fixed his gaze on a picture of her as a child resting on the piano opposite the couch.

"It's just –" he said haltingly, "I don't belong anywhere Hermione." He paused, wincing a little at his own words. "Ron, well he's being Ron, galavanting around pubs and the shop like he's happy to get his life back, and Ginny, that just makes it awkward to be at the Burrow. Not that Molly is mad, it's more Ron that ever connected me to the Weasleys, but I just don't want to play another bloody round of Quidditch like nothing happened!"

Hermione chose to wait, saying nothing. She would let Harry talk himself into silence.

"And then there is that house. It's forever dark in there and it feels like I'm going to open my front door to find Greyback or Death Eaters. I sometimes look out the door to check. It's driving me mad Hermione." And after a moment, "I got it appraised and I'm going to see if Mr. Weasley thinks I should sell it. I'm going to buy a flat, I think, but not yet."

"Wow, Harry, that's a major step. Are you sure you're ready to part with Sirius's house?"

"Are you kidding me? He hated that place. He didn't even want to go there while he could."

"I guess you're right.. It's a terrible place for you to be, anyways."

"Yeah, I just can't go back there 'mione. I needed to come back for a couple of days to sort things properly with Ginny, but I haven't asked you.. will you come with me again? Will you go with me to whichever places we decide?"

"I will, Harry. I thought you were just taking your time about it. I told you in Boston that I wanted to keep going."

* * *

"I'm so glad you could stay for dinner, Harry," Mrs. Granger said warmly, passing the platter of buttered fish.

"Thank you again, Mrs. Granger."

"So this is the boy they are requesting all over the world?" Mr. Granger said jokingly, and Harry grinned sheepishly.

"It's funny, they all expect I would be taller," Harry said. Being a several inches under six feet apparently didn't fit most people's hero archetype.

"We're so glad you took our Hermione. We've barely been to America with her, and it's so good she gets to travel. Hogwarts kept us from showing her more of the world." Her mothers eyes twinkled with the wanderlust of years gone by.

"We're going to set out again, mum. This weekend actually, unless you need me here. And we may be gone for a fortnight or so." Hermione said, waiting for an answer.

Harry stabbed through the fish, pulling a bit of the wonderful turnip puree onto his fork. The Grangers were surprisingly good and healthful chefs. Harry shouldn't have ever doubted it, seeing their well-preserved figures. The thought that he wanted this in his life was not lost on him. He hardly had the best role models with the Dursleys. His eyes rested on Hermione's face across the table for a moment.

"Harry, I will make up guest room for you tonight," Mrs. Granger said. "There's no need to go all the way home, and I'm sure you two have plenty of planning to be about."

"Mrs. Granger, I don't want to trouble you two, I've already intruded on enough of your day."

"Nonsense, this house is too quiet, and we've never had any of Hermione's friends over since grade school. It's not an imposition."

"You should say," Mr. Granger said warmly, but with a note of sternness in his voice.

Harry wondered how much they knew or heard about him not wanting to go back to the Burrow or Grimmauld Place. But he was very grateful they were offering up their home. Truth be told, he may have ended up in a hotel that night, had they not offered.

"That is very kind of you both, thank you very much," he said aloud, perhaps a little quietly.

Hermione smiled warmly at Harry, but it was a bittersweet kind of smile. It comforted him though, because he knew she felt the same way. This house wasn't her Grimmauld Place, but she wasn't at ease either. And that was ok.

* * *

After dinner, after the spare room was made up, and after she was ready to turn in, she sat with Harry on the edge of her parent's guest bed.

She looked at his face while his masculine hands absently caressed the towels she had supplied, almost as if he were comforting them and not himself. His hard features that had always been attractive to her made her heart soar with feelings of comfort and familiarity.

And she again questioned the tenderness she assumed was always merely friendship. Feeling daring, she was tempted to push the limits of her contact with him. They were no stranger to physical touch, but it was usually reserved for highly dangerous or emotionally charged moments. But this one was emotional for Harry, she rationalized, wasn't it?

She reached out her hand, placing it on his knee, and squeezing him bracingly.

He looked over at her and smiled his familiar smile, apparently not thinking her gesture was unusual. He placed his hand on top of hers and squeezed.

After several moments, when Hermione would usually have pulled away, she dared herself to hold on, but she couldn't. She let go.

"I guess I'll take a shower," he said, standing.

"Goodnight Harry," she said in acquiescence. "If you need anything, I'll be in my room. You can wake me up. Please wake me up if you need anything or if you want to talk, or if you're not ok and –"

"I'll be ok, Hermione. Don't worry about me. I'll see you in the morning. Thank you for everything."


	7. Holdup

Harry was suddenly awake. His startled mind didn't recognize the darkened room, and he fumbled rapidly for his glasses and wand.

There was that sound again. A muted scream. And then clarity and memory came rushing back into his mind. Hermione!

He scrambled over the end of the bed and hurtled out his door, finding hers in seconds. Wand at the ready, he burst in to her room.

Everything was still, and in order. Fear still gripped Harry, even when he saw Hermione's gently tossing form still under bedclothes.

"Homenum Revelio" Harry intoned in a low voice. A moment later, he relaxed. No one else was in the Granger home.

He took another step closer to her bed and seemed to cross the barrier of her silencing charm. All of a sudden her tossing was accompanied by frightened sounds.

"No, no! No! Noooo!" her voice sounded loud through the muted sheets.

"Hermione!" Harry said reflexively, running to her bedside. He clutched her wrist and shook her awake.

She started suddenly, and quieted.

"What..? Harry?" She turned over and sat up into his embrace.

"You're alright," he soothed, rubbing her back. "Everything is alright."

"Bellatrix. She had her wand.."

Memories of Bellatrix torturing Hermione swept unbidden before his eyes. "She's gone. Bellatrix is gone." He said commanding away the images in his own mind.

Hermione's shoulder shook gently. He could feel wetness against his neck and shirt. Her arm gripping tightly around his neck.

He held her for a while, aware that she had probably been hiding her nightmares for a while.

Time stretched on and the room lightened. The sun would rise soon. She sniffled and shifted back into her headboard. She snapped on a bedside lamp and grabbed at the tissue box. A warm glow filled the room to add to the blue predawn light filtering in through her thin curtains.

He watched her glassy eyes as she peered unseeingly at the window, recognizing the haunted look in her eyes. Nightmares were indeed the great gift of terrible experiences. Harry knew it all too well, but it pained him to see his strong Hermione affected.

"I'm sorry for waking you, Harry."

"It's – it's ok," Harry said, deciding better of saying much else. He wanted to continue to hold her, but he didn't want the Grangers to find him here, asleep.

"How did you hear me?" she asked quietly.

"I think your silencing charm must have contained the guest bedroom. Your scream woke me up, but I couldn't hear you in the hall. I don't think your parents know."

"Oh," she trailed off. "I'm going to get up. Harry, do you want some tea?"

Harry yawned uncontrollably at that exact moment. He gave a sheepish grin and she laughed.

* * *

"So, tell me again, what do you possibly have to do at the library now?" Harry asked, for the second time that morning as he walked her toward the big corinthian columns that had just come into view over the bobbing heads of the crowded street.

"Harry I've said before. Most importantly, if we really do get to speak to Caddius Malcolm I want to be prepared. I need to have all manner of intelligent questions ready, and you should too, Harry. He's an eminent international political figure as well as University Chairman."

"Right, well" Harry said thankfully as they crossed the street. "Thanks Hermione. I should–uh–" he glanced at his watch, "be back in two hours."

Harry waved slightly as Hermione started up the white marble steps before rushing toward the ministry.

Ten minutes later he was again in the travel office in front of the Yorkshire witch, thumbing his itinerary.

"Hi again, Lesley" he held out his itinerary. "I need a couple of visas today, for me and Hermione Granger again."

She pulled his folded paper across the counter and crossed her knees high above the counter, leaning in to read his list. She smacked her gum loudly, "Oh, the Netherlands, and on the Mediterranean, oh, Germany for the world cup! Ireland, oh wow."

She straightened and became business, pulling out papers and scrawling on forms. After a moment, she got a bored look on her face and pulled up a clipboard with a list on it, her eyes running down smoothly.

Then let out a scandalized gasped.

"What?" Harry ventured cautiously.

"Oh goodness, there's nothing I can do for you Harry. It seems Marcus put you on the no-travel list," she said in a rush.

"What?!" Harry said, trying to process what was happening. "Who is Marcus? What list?"

"Well he's, he's the International Affairs Minister. My boss's boss. Right under the Minster of Magic himself. I don't know what to tell you except to see him."

"I see. Why would I be on the list?" Harry asked.

"It's usually criminal reasons," she said warily.

"Ok, do you think he is here now?" This was ridiculous, Harry thought. What could he have possibly done? "And is it just me or Hermione also?" he added as an afterthought.

"It's just you, and yes, he will be two floors up, in the Transportation Division senior offices.."

Harry muttered a thank you and made his way down the hall.

An hour later Harry was nearly sweating, he had practically walked through the entire ministry to chase this Marcus down. He let out a loud frustrated curse in a near-empty hallway and closing his eyes in frustration, rounded the corner at a sprint.

He collided with a hard mass and stumbled backward.

"Kingsley!" Harry said breathlessly. "I'm so sorry, sir," Harry said to the Minister of Magic's aide whom he had just nearly tackled.

"Harry, is everything alright?" Kingsley said, his halted entourage taking in the disheveled state of Harry.

"I think so, they placed a travel ban on me and I'm trying to track down Minister Marcus. But I'll be going, I'm sorry to have–" Harry rambled.

"A travel ban on you?" Kingsley asked in sudden interest. "Surely they haven't leveled war crimes against you, Harry."

"War crimes? I don't know."

"Hmm, Ferrier, go with Mr. Potter up to Longhorn's office. I have reason to know Marcus is meeting with him momentarily. If there is any trouble, inform me."

Harry's impatience was magnifying. Ferrier, his escort, had excused himself to a meeting room across the hallway with instructions to get him when Marcus was available. It was maddening.

A full hour and a half after Harry arrived at the ministry, the meeting room door clicked open to reveal a sliver of Marcus along with chortles of amused conversation. The red-faced man who reminded him of Vernon Dursley finally approached Harry.

"Goodness me, Mr. Potter!" he chortled aloud.

"Minister Marcus, I was wondering if I could have a minute of your time."

The man chortled some more and gestured Harry to follow his waddling form down the hall.

"I need to just–" Harry started, moving to grab Ferrier.

"Now boy, you've come to see me at last. I heard you were planning to leave the country again. But you won't skip away that easily. There are rumors of you going to work for foreign governments, that you may be a–" he lowered his voice conspiratorially, "spy!" Marcus's face looked like it was going to burst with satisfaction. "Yes, I will need to question you." The International Affairs Minister was actually holding the upper part of his arm.

"What? I just need to grab Mr.–" Harry said pointing at the room behind him and Marcus led him away. Harry pulled against the man's grip, refusing to advance any further away from Ferrier.

"Mr. Potter!" Marcus said in a harsh voice as Harry yanked himself free and actually sprinted toward Ferrier's room. Marcus hit Harry with a body-bind curse and Harry feel like a log against Ferrier's door.

A moment later, his form was pushed over by the door swinging open.

"Harry!" Ferrier yelled, dropping to the ground instantly.

Marcus slowed his advancing steps. "We need to get this boy down to interrogation."

"What?! Have you lost your mind Marcus? This is Harry Potter." Ferrier exclaimed, standing suddenly to face down Marcus.

"Exactly. He showed up on my wanted list a week back."

"Did he show up or did you add him yourself Marcus, this wouldn't be the first time–"

"Now see here Ferrier!"

Harry stared at the men's shoes as they argued, unable to even blink. Just when he thought he was going to stay immobilized forever, a feminine shriek filled the hallway.

"Harry!" Hermione? His mind wasn't sure and he hoped not. He hoped it wasn't her so she didn't have to find him like this, though it would hardly be the first time. Two sets of footsteps came fast down the hallway.

"Oh, Finite Incantatem!" Ferrier said, remembering Harry was still on the ground. "He's fine folks, nothing to see here." Ferrier said, mildly embarrassed.

Harry looked into Hermione's face as soon as he was free. He was a bit out of breath from his earlier brief sprint and he took her hand as he stood up. He stared down Marcus in outrage. Hermione took his arm. "Harry, what is happening?" she whispered urgently.

"Not now Hermione."

Before he could get out another word, Marcus started raving again. "What are you doing Ferrier? He needs to be taken to questioning!"

"Now just a moment!" Arthur Weasley interjected angrily.

"Everyone, Marcus and I have a disagreement and we need to have little chat with Kingsley. Please follow us now." Ferrier stormed off down the hall, leaving Marcus looking dumbstruck.

* * *

"Kingsley was never going to let that fly, Harry. He'll lay into Marcus for this, for sure. Like Ferrier said, this wasn't the first time. He's a bit odd. Didn't try to recruit you, did he?" Mr. Weasley rounded a corner quickly and punched down the button for the lift to his office. Harry had to stride quicker to keep up with the taller man's long gait and Hermione managed to catch up when the two men stopped at the elevator.

"Recruit me? What?"

"Into his Muggle Society cult. They are a mad lot who parade around in muggle hospital gowns carrying hair dryers and automatic shavers. He's been trying to recruit me for years. I can't believe he's risen so high in the ministry, but the high-rankers are on to his crazed politics and looking to sack him. "

"Mr. Weasley," Harry asked, "Do you think he added me to the list to get a meeting with me?"

"I guess there's no way to know for sure. He may have truly thought there was a conspiracy with you. Many people believe you had help defeating Voldemort. The magical world isn't a trusting lot when it comes to international matters.

Molly missed you at dinner at the Burrow last night, Harry. You know you are welcome any time."

"Thank you, and, I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley, I thought I'd just let things cool off for a while to respect Ginny." He looked around at Hermione to make sure she was keeping up. The older man nodded in understanding.

"Say," Harry said quickly, judging they would have a few more uninterrupted minutes. He proceeded to explain his plans to sell Grimmauld place. "And I just wanted to know if you thought it would be alright, given that it had been Order Headquarters and has the Fidelius Charm on it presently. Is it rare? Should I keep it for an investment or in case the Order needs it again?"

"Oh, Harry, this is not entirely unexpected. That house was a bane for Sirius and you. I can't imagine you're happy there. But no, the charm is not impossible to replicate. It takes a few very skilled witches and wizards, but it can be done. And the only obstacle I see would be Kreature. But no, Kreature knows too much. We'll have to tend to him."

"What do you mean, 'tend to him'?" Hermione interjected suspiciously from a few steps behind.

"Oh, sorry Hermione," Mr. Weasley said, slowing his pace. Harry wondered if he was also apologizing about the elf. "Just a memory charm should do," he said elusively.

Hermione was no longer a child and couldn't be fooled, though, she may not have been fooled as a child, come to that. "You mean a rather debilitating memory charm?" she accused.

"Hermione, nothing is decided. We will certainly look for other options, but Kreature will not find an easy home, and Harry has every right to sell the property."

Harry glanced at Hermione warily to see that she had closed her mouth but looked far from done talking.

* * *

Hermione stroked Crookshanks slowly as she sat next to her packed suitcases, their visas tucked securely in an upper pocket. The crisp morning glow of Hermione's family living room left the room feeling cold with Harry sitting in a chair a bit too far away from the other girl in the room.

Harry's thoughts had been on her all day yesterday, but especially now, he contemplated what his life would be like with Hermione as more than a friend. His biggest fear was losing her or straining their relationship. Could they make it as a couple? He was surprised at this new and growing physical attraction for her, but would they fight like her and Ron had? Would they quickly grow stale because they knew each other so well? Would he regret it?

"It's that time!" she said brightly as her mum walked in the room sporting workout clothes and trainers and her father followed in with his coffee and already-tucked in shirt.

"Ok, dear, have fun, be safe and we're so proud of you."

"Take care Harry," Hermione's father said, placing his coffee down and coming in for a hug.

"Thanks for letting me stay here again, Mr. Granger. I really appreciate it."

Harry hugged Hermione's mother as well and the two made their way outside and passed Hermione's wards.

Suitcases reduced but still managing to drag down her shoulder, Hermione started intoning a countdown. Instead of one she said "Netherlands!" and they were off.

The world was spinning around them, and Harry held on tighter. He couldn't bare the thought of losing his best friend. But he felt the wind stripping away his fears.


	8. Thump, rap, snap

It was not even ten in the morning yet and she had lost count of the number of times she had felt him touch her.

Brushing past her shoulder as he went to retrieve coffee for them, brushing her leg with his while sitting and listening to their private introduction to the school from the Dean, his hand lightly on the small of her back while he ushered her through a doorway. Or maybe it had been five doorways.

Hermione was extra conscious of her hair, of her complexion, of the clothes she had chosen for the day. She simultaneously felt more beautiful than ever. What was happening to her? Was he–– was this really in her head? Thinking back, she could remember Harry doing this before. At Hogwarts he'd hold her if she was crying, or take her had if she had been scared. But his eyes never quite lingered on hers the way they were right now.

He never winked at her before like he did when he went to take care of some business negotiations from their host. As she spoke to one of the star students of the school who had been selected to accompany them on their tour, Hermione couldn't help but wonder at the man Harry had become. When had he matured so quickly?

"Bill, Weasley? You know him, right?" the girl was saying.

"Oh, of course we do. We grew up with his younger brother, Ron," Hermione said curiously.

"Well, Bill graduated here!"

"Really?" Hermione wondered at how she didn't know this about Ron's brother.

"Yeah, he works for a company based out of the Netherlands. We're quite proud of our holdings on treasure spots around the world and magical creatures are quite attracted to treasure, so naturally a business emerged out of that legacy."

It made sense to Hermione now, Bill and Fleuer living in France was a much more sensible commute without him transferring jobs from Egypt.

"So anyways, he is here tomorrow, giving a lecture on cursed objects. I thought you would have known."

"Oh, it's a big family," Hermione excused, knowing that, had she been in the Weasley living room, she'd certainly have heard someone bragging on their brother's ability to draw a crowd at one of the most respected wizarding universities.

"Maybe you could speak too, you know, on the.. Horcruxes," the girl whispered as if the last word itself were cursed.

"You know that's conjecture. And even if that does explain Voldemort's power, we don't want to expose that idea to the masses. I wish the rumors would die down," Hermione said evasively. "Copycat acts could be a serious problem."

"Kira, are you getting Hermione here to reveal secrets of the war?" laughed the Dean who had just exited his office with Harry in tow. "Now, Harry and I have just decided to announce a scholarship foundation for magical orphans of the war. There will be a dedication event tomorrow evening, and Mr. Potter had promised your attendance if you are in agreement."

"That sounds lovely," Hermione said, "and thank you for your generous time today, and honoring Harry in this way."

"We would love to have you both in these halls daily! I will see you both tomorrow! Goodbye!" The Dean waived jovially as he strode away with his secretary in tow.

* * *

"So you agreed on the terms of the scholarship?"

"He really wanted to support a cause I believe in, I suppose, so.. orphans of the was was the one we chose. It's kind of tiring, to be honest.. All these people doing things in your name and not knowing if you can fully trust them or dare to be associated with them. This school is amazing, though, so I feel like I can trust them.."

Harry leaned back into his chair as he watched the sun setting behind Hermione on the restaurant veranda.

"Temporal field research, honestly. I feel like we are living in the future. I would love to be at this school."

"And they are researching the properties of the soul and death as well."

Hermione shifted uncomfortably, her heart sending her a warning rhythm. "Harry, I–– I just want you to be careful. The Veil turned out to me a rabbit hole for you. And Siris.. The Mirror of Erised.. It's all... I know how it drags you in."

Harry looked pensive for a moment and then leaned in and took her hand. Hermione felt tingles erupt all over her body at the much-desired contact.

"I don't want you to worry about me. I'll be ok. You want to get out of here?"

"Sure." She threw her cloth napkin down next to the check he had signed a minute ago and, the warmth of his hand still in hers, she followed his strong body through the maze of tables. She was fully aware of her body in that moment and wanted to press herself against him. It was an irresistible desire that seemed absurd to her all at the same time.

"Where are we going?" she asked once they made it to the street. She tugged absently at the ends of her sleeves, pulling them down further against the chill in the early summer night air.

"It's a surprise," he said. "You see, the university didn't provide accommodations." She looked into his eyes, seeing a mischievous expression.

"Close your eyes, and hold on tight, ok?"

She wrapped her arms around him, partially unnecessarily except for the fact that she was beginning to feel slightly light-headed. She slowly raised her gaze to his and his green eyes lingered for a moment too long as he wrapped one arm around her back and used his hand to press her head to his chest.

Now emotions were swirling in her chest and she was slightly dizzy with feelings. The headiness intensified as the world spun around her beyond her lazily shut eyes, and a moment later, when the sensation stopped, she didn't immediately let go.

* * *

Harry transitioned to holding her hand, and when she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was a warm, glowing fireplace and a modern, inviting couch. The whole living room was stylish, down to the wooden slats half covering the large pitch-black window portals. The ceiling was vaulted, and had exposed wood, perfectly balanced against the elemental stone hearth and furry rug.

She smiled warmly at Harry from the other side of the couch, inviting him to join her in the cozy enclave he had chosen for them. His eyes locked with hers, he wandlessly shut the blinds in the numerous windows of the room and approached her.

His knee pressed against her upper thigh as he positioned himself to face her. She turned, and he tenderly tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

"You're beautiful, Hermione," he said gently and quietly. Almost as if he hadn't said it. but his voice grew more audible. "I've always thought that."

She let his words wash over her. Savoring the newfound sureness that she had not been imagining his affections, and all the implications that brought. Did he like her, sexually? She suddenly felt excitement, delicious excitement warmed her whole body and raise her sensitivity.

His face was very close to hers now. She wasn't sure when that had happened. But he wasn't looking away from her. And she didn't want to look away from him. Not now, not ever. Her heart was warm and beating rather fast.

His eyes subtly flicked to her lips for a fateful moment, and then it was happening.

His soft lips were caressing her own. She could taste the mint from their ice cream. And the sting of the mango. She thought her chest would burst with the passion. His hand had woven itself into her hair, so gently. Longingly she pushed forward into him and in time, when their insistent dance and caressing tongues proved not to be enough contact, he pulled her to him as he laid down against his thick, hard body.

Minutes passed. So many that she had forgotten what it felt like not to be kissing Harry. So many that she couldn't imagine she had ever lived without this.

And then she felt a hardness pressing at the core of her. Her legs encircled him and she lightly squeezed her legs, pulling him closer in pure primal desire.

He gasped and ran his hands along her jawbone as he teased her by pulling away slightly at her kiss.

Rap-Rap-Rap.

Harry sat up, suspicious and Hermione jumped, cowering into him slightly.

"Come here," he said quietly, leading her to the door. There would be no place to hide in the open floor plan, so he wanted her by his side, in case of what, he didn't know. But he certainly wasn't expecting anyone here this late, or at all.

He hesitated, and looked through the peephole to see an unfamiliar man, alone with what looked like a lantern.

Rap-Rap-Rap

The sounds left Hermione gripping his arm, hard as their proximity to the door increased the volume and urgency.

"Mr. Weathers has a message for Harry Potter about the water tank."

Harry cast a quick charm through the door to detect any concealment or disguises. There were none. His heart calmed down measurably.

He opened the door a fraction and surveyed the quiet dark woods behind the man, after keenly looking over his appearance. He was carrying a tool box.

"Hi, can I help you?"

"Mr. Potter, I'm just here to check the heater," the man said smoothly, putting down his tool box and digging around it it.

"Can you come back in the morning," he asked, opening the door a bit wider as Hermione poked her head out.

"No, no, it must be done now.."

The front door suddenly flung open, an unmistakable result of magic, fully exposing Hermione and before Harry had a chance to react, a giant camera was their faces. He saw two flashes before he managed to completely slam the door shut.

Breathing hard, he ran his hand through his already-disheveled hair.

"Hermione, I'm so sorry," He said, as she wrapped her arms around her body defensively.

"Harry, I didn't know this was the Forest of Dean."

"I never should have opened the door to see what he wanted. Wait, what?"

"The forest of dean, Harry, I want to leave. I just can't. I can't say here. Please, we have to leave."

Harry's heart clenched as he saw the terror filling her eyes.

Without another thought, he wrapped himself around her and apparated to a now-quiet street in the Netherlands.

* * *

He ushered her across the street and into an Inn with a lamppost outside. He placed his arm around her, placing his hand on the counter when he asked for a room. She was completely enveloped next to him and he could feel her shaking. The attendant, noticing the girl's distress quickly prepared the paperwork and produced a key, watching the couple walk away concernedly.

It was a blur to Hermione until she laid down in the bed. Moments later she heard Harry shrugging off his coat and adding additional wards to the room. She was able to close her eyes then, but immediately opened them upon seeing Bellatrix appear instantly beneath the blackness of her eyelids.

"Hermione, I'm so, so sorry." Harry said. He was wrapped around her now, pulling her body into his chest.

An hour later, when she had finally calmed, she rolled over toward Harry, her feet delighting at weaving through his legs. She rested her face near him and his sleeping breaths feel on her skin. She breathed in his air and pressed her lips lightly against his. She was in awe of this adonis next to her, but she was so comforted by his love. She closed her eyes, and fell into a deep, but troubled sleep.

Her eyes were bleary when she woke and she knew it was all too early to be awake. Her heart throbbed slightly as she took in the sight of him lying in bed next to her. She savored this first with him.

She pulled away slowly as to not disturb him, making her way to the bathroom. The morning owl had clearly been around, as she stumbled in the darkness on the paper that she assumed was the Daily Profit.

In a moment, she was back next to the paper she had deposited on the desk and set some water to warm for tea in the kettle provided by the Inn. She looked down at the desk, the predawn light illuminating the paper.

There, splashed on the cover of the Daily Profit was a picture of her and Harry from the previous night, mussed hair, disheveled clothing under a glaring headline "Controversial Hero Tour Or Lover Holiday?: You decide."

Hermione turned the paper over, smacking it into the desk.

Beside her the kettle reached a boil and Harry jolted out of sleep.

"Hey," he tried through his sleepy voice, "hey, whats wrong?"

"Go back to sleep, we can deal with it in the morning."


End file.
